Mouse, and, evidently, a number of his Friends and Relations, have taken up refuge in my sofa. They are spending their nights gradually chewing through our door. The flat is now booby trapped with an impressive 4 different kinds of traps. But Mouse is too sensible to eat the suspicious turquoise flakes that have turned up next to his mousehole in a suspicious plastic tray. The following stereotypical male vs female conversation ensued:

F: Look at these! They'll kill the bastards.
Me: Can't we try and catch them and then put them outside.
F: They'll get in again. Bastards!
Me: My boss says he'll lend me some humane traps.
F: Fuck that. Let's just kill the bastards.

Saw a news report at the weekend. Arson Wenger uttering the following statement "We really should have won that match."
Now, I have a limited knowledge of football, so bear with me, but as far as I know the gist is that you should try and score more goals than the other team. Chelsea scored a big round ZERO. Therefore, they shouldn't have won.

Went to an RAF wedding at the weekend, the reception taking place at RAF Strike Command, which was rather like having a wedding reception at an all-boys public school, except the uniforms were better. Except the women. The uniformed women looked like traffic wardens.

Laura Blomeley, a former sabbatical officer at QM and all-round lovely, generous, cheerful person, died last week. There is an obituary on the QM website, and you can post comments there too. My prayers are with Laura and her family.

Finally I have found an internet based test that is fun AND whose result is actually true. According to this inkblot test I am:

"full of questions about life, people, and your own potential. You spend more time than others imagining the possibilities for your life – and you're open to things others are too afraid to consider. You have an almost physical need to know and do more. It's only through new experiences that you feel a greater understanding of yourself and the world. You also have a rebellious streak that shows up when you feel unable to truly influence the world or circumstances around you. Your appetite for novel experiences also shows an openness others don't have, but wish they did. Your psyche is very rich; the more you lern about it, the more you will understand who you really are."

Hmm.

This one also made me feel good about myself:

Apparently I have an IQ of 126, and as such...

"You are gifted with the natural fluency of a writer and the visual and spatial strengths of an artist. Those skills contribute to your creative and expressive mind.

Insightful linguists can take complex concepts and articulate them to just about anyone. You have a gift with words and insight into processes and the way people think. These talents enable you to explain things clearly to people. Helen Keller is a great example of an Insightful Linguist. Blind, deaf and mute, she was still able to put things together in her mind and to understand complex ideas. She could do that because she was able to conceptualise ideas internally. Though she could not literally see, she had the visual and spatial skills necessary to understand patterns on an abstract level. She learned to read, write and ultimately became a writer on issues of social justice."

As you can see, I clearly have too much time on my hands. However, I also have the worst sore throat I have ever had and am trying not to talk to people.

This one says I should be a Libra - the same as John Lennon. And Eminem. I disagree.

On a completely unrelated note, spare a thought for my mate RMB, who occasionally posts here. The week after next he is going to a selection conference in the hope of being selected to become a priest! (Now now, Chees'm, there's no need to be rude...) I know some (most?) of you don't "do" religion, but he would make an absolutely brilliant vicar, so do think of/pray for him next week :-)

Right, off to OD on strepsils.

Well, I got a job.

In fact, I was offered two within about half an hour of one another, and am now in the happy position of having to decide which permanent contract to take up. I also have significantly less work to do on my MA, having stormed a presentation on the Evils of Advertising on Wednesday night, gaining extra marks, presumably, on the basis that I have access to a colour printer at work and can supply prettier handouts than everybody else.

On the other hand, I do now seem to have mice in my flat, or, more specifically, Mouse. What Mouse is planning on eating I don't know, since all our food is shut away in high cupboards in tupperware boxes (a precaution we took after the last invasion). This worries me, since eventually I am going to found Starved to Death Mouse rotting away in my kitchen. We have tried poison, but Mouse obviously has a bit of common sense, and didn't go for the bright turquoise powder that suddenly suspiciously appeared by the fridge.

Have taken various "Emotional Intelligence" tests. Just to show how bad these tests are, my results tange from having below average emotional intelligence to having almost genius level emotional intelligence. Hmm.

http://quiz.ivillage.co.uk/uk_work/tests/eqtest.htm

Real Live Vicars!

Finally took my birthday cards down today, thus giving Joe Strummer back his prominent place on my shelf. I counted a record 13 with flowers on them.

Realise I could quite happily get used to living on my own. This weekend, with Frank up in Edinburgh busy tying his brother to lamposts, or whatever Best Men do at stag parties, this weekend has seemed gloriously endless. Never have I fitted so much into so little time. Which seems odd: you'd think with two of you that things would take less time, not more. Not only have I finished a presentation for my course on Wednesday and designed another from scratch for a job interview on Friday, I have also done some shopping, two loads of watching, and seem "Brokeback Mountain" and "Memoirs of a Geisha" (both of which are far too long) and written another 3000 words of "The Man on The Doorstep". Answers on a postcard about what said Man might be doing there, as I have still not been able to decide.

"Brokeback" is worth the effort, although a disproportionate amount of the film is taken up with the two men rolling around against a backdrop of snowtopped mountains, which I understand makes a point (and has the added benefit of pissing off those who rage about such things on Catholic Online), but I would argue it shouldn't take a third of the film to make it. I was also slightly peturbed by the man in the seat next to me, who kept bursting into tears at certain key moments. One of the things I thought was well done, though, was the contrast between rich and poor between the two main characters. That, coupled with the way homosexuals are viewed, really makes me hate America. (Am I allowed to say that? Or will I be hauled up for some new offence for daring to criticise the States?)

Friday was perhaps even more fun, and confirmed to me that I am subconsciously stalking London-based Anglican clergy. Went along to a free event at the Tate Britain, which intrigued me on the basis that part of the invitation was "tea and cakes served by real live vicars!" This makes vicars sound rather like rare birds, or perhaps an exhibit at a Museum of Oddities, and perhaps the end result would, in comparison, have been disappointing had it not been for the Salvation Army band playing jazz in the room next door and a chap standing on a soap-box performing some kind of parody of the Oxford Street Sinner-or-Winner chap. What was most amusing about this was not so much the stand-up (which was one of the funniest things I have ever seen) but the audience's reaction to it, that is, utter bemusement, and perhaps a hint of fear. The event, I'm sure, must have enraged some of the more evangelical churches, and that an event that attracted such a huge amount of people was organised by a minister friend and her Duckie-compere partner does make me feel as though it's one-nil to us.

As I have nothing worth adding, here is a snippet of "The Man":

ED: What’s he doing?
GRAHAM: Still sleeping, I think. Unless he’s dead. Oh, my God, what if he’s dead?! We’ve just moved in and we’ve got a bloody corpse on our doorstep!
ED: I expect the police might come round eventually if he was actually dead.
GRAHAM: (sitting down) Oh, God, I can’t cope with this. I’ve overslept, I ache from carrying goodness knows how many boxes yesterday, there’s no milk and there’s a dead pensioner on the doorstep. Picturesque, they said. “Delightful location”. Bloody “popular, quiet suburban neighbourhood”. Picturesque, quiet neighbourhood, may find stiffs on your doorstep from time to time.
ED: “convenient for Tescos”
GRAHAM: What?
ED: I was suspicious when they felt they had to say “Convenient for Tescos”. It suggested there wasn’t much else to say for it. And it isn’t even that close to Tescos. I suppose “close” is quite a relative term. I mean, if this was a country village, which it seems to think it is, to have Tescos at the distance…
GRAHAM: (interrupting) THERE’S A DEAD MAN ON THE DOORSTEP!
ED: (peering out of the window) He isn’t dead. He just rolled over. (gets up and looks more closely) He’s just frightened the postman away. Were we expecting anything?
GRAHAM: Oh, God, he’s probably an alcoholic, then. A violent drunk! Or even a drug addict! God, at least a corpse can’t attack you, but a drunk…
ED: I think the postman just startled him. And then he rather startled the postman.
GRAHAM: He could be anything! Do they have gang warfare in Finchley? He could be a…
ED: Well why don’t you go and ask him?
GRAHAM: Oh, yes, I’ll just go and ask him, shall I? And how exactly would you suggest how I phrase it? Oh, excuse me, old chap, sorry to disturb you, my partner and I were just wondering if you happened by any chance to be a murderer!